The Devil's Paintbrush
by Loli Shota
Summary: She is just a girl trying to make ends meet. He is just a lone painter who has the bad habit of sleeping with his models. When he offers her a job, she unwillingly steps right into the Devil's den... AU S&S E
1. La Dame Aux Camelias

**A /N : Waw , this is my first SxS since… Well ever. I really don't know how this will turn out, but I hope you enjoy!**

**The Devil's Paintbrush**

Prologue

_La Dame Aux Camélias_

He added a dab of yellow to the gold of her hair and leaned back to get a better look at the whole canvas. He smiled and with a thin sigh of satisfaction, set his paintbrush and palette down on the dirty paint stained cart beside him.

"Are you done yet?" a voice groaned for across the cramped studio. Syaoran smirked and stood from the narrow stool his ass had been glued to for the past three hours. Wiping his hands on his lap, he smeared a rainbow of paint on his already dirty oversized cotton slacks. In front of him, a leggy blond woman posed naked and spread on a bed in a tousle of white sheets. He leaned back on the cart and, with his arms and ankles crossed, leisurely devoured her with his eyes.

"Yes, I'm done. Tired?" he smirked, eyes twinkling with amusement. It had been all the pain in the world to get her to standing still for nearly four hours, but by god was it worth it. Plopped on her side, supporting her light weight on her right elbow, she held her right hand to her chest and her left along a long, lean and feline body. The white sheets slid over the curve of her hips like silk, hiding her sex, but her full breasts laid bare under a few strands of thick, golden waves. The lone window, behind her, shed just enough light to make her creamy skin glow. Aura exulting sensuality, she stared at the onlooker with dare and mischief.

"Finally!" she whined and collapsed on her back. When his model suddenly dropped her carefully elaborated pose and came back to life, Syaoran felt a slight pang in his chest, like a child whose sand castle was just destroyed by the timeless unforgiving sea. She stretched deeply, trying to work the kinks and stiffness out of her body. "_**God**_, isn't this kind of slavery or some crime or something?"

Syaoran kept his eyes on the pale body and chuckled at a bouncy breast "What is?"

She rolled to her side and with her head resting on her arm stared at the man through thick golden lashes, meaning to disarm, "To make someone hold still for so long."

"I don't think so." Syaoran stood and took the canvas to the back of the workshop to dry.

The woman watched him do and pouted, "What? I don't even get to see it?"

Syaoran felt himself smile as he dropped the wet canvas on a table, where half a dozen others of various sizes, already laid, "Not yet."

The woman dropped to her back and huffed in frustration "So, I lie here for you for _hours _and I don't even get to see the finished product? That's kind of unfair." She frowned.

Syaoran, who had come back from the table, plopped on the bed near her, "I guess I'll just have to make it up to you."

The woman smiled and twirled a lock of hair between slender fingers, "Hmm, yeah, I think you just might have to. But I just really wonder how."

Syaoran slid a hand along her milky thigh and skimmed his lips across her flat stomach, "I was thinking of something along these lines." He whispered before pressed his lips against hers.

She responded hungrily to the kiss and when they finally broke apart, she replied, panting, "Yeah, that might just do."

"Yeah?" Syaoran chuckled before both disappeared under the sheets with a flood of girly giggles.

In a homey downtown café, Eriol impatiently eyed his watch. When a chestnut haired man carrying a large package walked through the front door, Eriol gestured him a cordial '_What the fuck?_'

Syaoran pulled a chair to sit in front of Eriol at the small round table and set the wide package on the floor near him, "Sorry I'm late?" he smiled sheepishly.

"Over an _hour_ late."

"Yes, yes, I know. I got caught up." Syaoran reached for the muffin in Eriol's plate and took a quick bite.

"In what? Bed sheets?" Eriol slapped Syaoran's hand away before he could go for another bite.

Syaoran only grinned, "I started a portrait and just couldn't stop until it was finished."

Eriol sighed, his eyebrows curling in a light frown "Yes, I know how you are when you start painting. And because I know how you are when you start painting, I also know you did much more than just paint." Syaoran felt his lips curve, the quick image that crossed his mind sent blood rushing to his loins. "I don't ask for much, just that you _try _to keep it in your pants when you agree to meet me at 12:30 at the café, but even that you can't do." Eriol vented.

Syaoran laughed and reached for the package by the side of his chair. In a quick gesture that dismissed all of Eriol's anger, he delicately undressed the wide canvas of its brown paper wrapping and set it on the table.

"Well? What do you think?" leaning forward in anticipation, like child awaiting praise, Syaoran smirked at his gaping friend's quiet astonishment.

Speechless, Eriol slowly reached for the canvas. From a simple wooden chair, a fair skinned maiden smiled at him. With a hand on her lap and the other caressing sunlight, she sat in front of a wide window hidden under a flow of lace curtains. Long dark waves skimmed free over the white of her simple ankle long summer dress. "She's beautiful…" Eriol awed, eyes gleaming with amazement.

"Yeah, I know that," Syaoran gestured with light impatience, "but what do you think of the painting?"

Eriol's eyes painfully tore from the gorgeous model's face to soar across the whole picture. The neutral colors, gave the picture a natural simplicity, a pureness that translated well with the model's aura and graceful beauty, but at second glance, the image took a complete different aspect. The subtle shades of pink on the model's slightly parted lips, the pulpy red tongue visible in the darkness of her mouth, and the strap subtly sliding off the left shoulder, Eriol found it all surprisingly erotic, if not arousing.

Eyes full of wonder, Eriol looked up to see his friend smirking back playfully, "My gift to you, you like it? I always knew you were a pervert. Thought I'd give you something to jack off to in case the real thing finally cuts you off."

Eriol threw his head back with a laugh. Syaoran's talent baffled him once more. He had skillfully managed, with a simple play of color and lines, to amplify Tomoyo's sexuality until it channeled Eriol's naked desire, and all the while preserving the purity of her angel-like image. The trick worked with such efficiency it seemed supernatural.

"You won't be laughing when it happens." Syaoran said and reached into his back pocket for a pack of smokes.

Eriol chuckled, "You really are amazing, you know that?"

"Of course I do, else I wouldn't be doing what I do." Syaoran leaned back in his chair, but Eriol shook his head sadly at the comment. Syaoran's laidback carefreeness sometimes appalled him.

"Right… I just wish you'd stop selling yourself short like this."

Syaoran's head tilted to the side, "What do you mean?"

Cautiously replacing the paper over the canvas, he slowly put the picture away, "Don't you think you should start taking things a little more seriously?" Syaoran straightened his back and plopped elbows on the table, "You paint and are quite good at it, but you can't keep doing this for a living, not the way you're going."

"And why is that?" Syaoran's eyes gleamed with mischief. He loved to make Eriol worry and Eriol pertinently knew it.

He sighed, "Painting isn't the only part of being a painter, Syaoran. Tell me, how many paintings have you sold in the last year?" Syaoran opened his mouth to protest, "My point exactly. Even this one you won't let me pay for." Eriol gestured at the canvas resting by him.

"But it's a gift, and I'm the one who asked you if I could paint your girlfriend."Syaoran replied, scratching the back of his neck.

Exasperated, Eriol threw his head back, "You _always_ have an excuse." he groaned, "What about this girl you're painting now…?"

"Shelby."

"Shelby." Eriol repeated, raising a brow.

"A lovely foreigner. She's American. International student at T University." Syaoran smiled, eyes glazed with memories of some very heated sex.

"Right… And she's paying you how?" Syaoran eyes twinkled at the obvious pun, "Actually don't even answer that. I give up. You're hopeless." Eriol threw his hands up, defeated.

"I am not starving Eriol. You know that. All these girls may not pay for my art, but they're all quite wealthy and treat me pretty well. They take care of me." He chuckled, "I think they enjoy playing patron to some lone artist."

"But you're better than that." Eriol murmured with a frown. Syaoran said nothing. Instead, he pulled a cigarette out of the pack and brought it to his lips before offering one to Eriol. Eriol slowly shook his head no, "I quit."

"Since when?" Syaoran smiled, lighting the tip of the stick with a shiny silver lighter.

"About a week ago. I always only smoked to accompany you anyway."

"Huh hu," Syaoran exhaled deeply, "And I Bet Tomoyo has something to do with this."

The accuracy of it had Eriol smiling, "And what if she does? It's not a crime to want a dear one to be healthy."

"But it is one to be so utterly whipped."

"You call it dominance, I call it love." Eriol shrugged.

Syaoran chuckled, "So, what's with the sudden meeting? I'm sure you've got a better reason for sticking around over an hour than just the enticing need to lecture me about my painting and tell me you quit smoking."

"Yeah, actually…" Eriol paused, staring intently at his hands folded on his lap. Finally, he looked up, "Tomoyo and I decided to get married."

Syaoran froze an instant, his amber eyes quietly scanning Eriol's for mischief, "Are you serious?" his face finally broke into a grin, "_Well_. After six and a half years she finally got you to tie the knot. Congratulations."

Eriol smiled, but he couldn't tell if the edge in his friend's voice was sarcasm, mockery or genuine disbelief. It was going to be just as difficult as he'd expected. "And I want you to be my best man."

This time, Syaoran's moment of vacancy was slightly longer. He warily stared at Eriol, a cigarette stick dangling loosely from his lips. Finally snapping back to reality, he took the long stick from his lips and crushed it full in the ashtray. He leaned back in his chair and watched himself nervously tap his lighter against the wooden table "…You're really getting married…?"

Eriol grinned, "That's what I just said."

"I didn't think you were being serious." Syaoran ran a nervous hand through thick messy strands of chestnut. After a brief pause, he jerked forward like he'd been stung, "You're getting married?!"

"I'm getting married to Tomoyo Daidouji winter of this year." Eriol said, very slowly.

Syaoran gaped, then settled back, "Well I'll be damned…" then gaped some more. "You know, I always knew the woman who managed to get Hiiragizawa Eriol tied down in a seven year relationship had to have some kind of supernatural power in her, but I'd never thought she would be powerful enough to get you to _marry her_." He leaned forward, eyes round with curiosity "How'd she do it? Blackmail? Hold back sex?"

Eriol chuckled, "Nothing so gruesome, I assure you." Whether he was talking about the blackmail or the sex, Syaoran couldn't tell.

Syaoran plopped back in his seat, "Well I'll be damned…" With a playful smirk, his eyes twinkled at Eriol, "Unbelievable. Congratulations, I'm happy for you… Thought I'm not sure Tomoyo got the best part of the bargain. Poor girl has no idea what she's getting into. Somebody should warn her she's about to marry a perverted old man in the skin of a 23 year old."

Eriol smiled, "I don't think she would mind. You might not know it, but she has quite the old man fetish."

"_Really?"_Syaoran leaned forward, visibly interested.

"Yes, really" Eriol replied, but it wasn't his place to elaborate any further. How he even got to discover this was a secret Tomoyo and he would carry to their grave. "So… You're ok with it? The wedding I mean…" Eriol said voice oozing apprehension.

Syaoran glanced at the ceiling and placed another cigarette between his lips as he thought of the only one of his models he'd never slept with. Not that he hadn't wanted to, but he didn't make a habit of sleeping with his best friend's girl, "Sure, why wouldn't I be? I like Tomoyo. She's pretty, kind and didn't even once complain when she had to stay still for hours. The girl's a keeper."

Eriol's chest fell with relief; he hadn't even realized he was holding his breath, "I'm glad. Best man?"

Syaoran smirked, "Do you even have to ask?"

With his head thrown back and a loud sigh of relief, Eriol slumped back in his chair, "What a load off my mind!" He nodded at his friend, "This was easier than I expected."

Syaoran had a short laugh, "You'd think I was your father-in-law or something, the way you're so relieved." he feigned indignation, but was secretly flattered his approval mattered so much to the person he considered his only family.

Eriol frown, "A father-in-law would be easier to please." he glanced at his watch and rose from his seat, "Alright, I have to get going. Promised Tomoyo I'd help her with the preparative for the engagement party."

"Right— Wait, what engagement party?" Syaoran stared eyes bulging and pale faced, the cigarette fell from his lips to the floor. Eriol took the canvas under his arm and moved towards the exit. Syaoran's panicked eyes quietly followed his retreating figure.

"The one you'd know all about if you had gotten here on time." Syaoran opened his mouth to protest, eyes begging for pity, "And yes, you **have**to attend. I'll call you tonight to give you the details." Eriol said before disappearing through the front door with a short wave.

Syaoran stared at the door a moment before dropping his forehead loudly on the hard table. Around the café, heads turned towards the noise. Big formal events were never Syaoran's cup of tea. Somehow, one way or another, he always managed to make a complete fool of himself. He turned his head to the side with a sharp groan. On his forehead a red round blotch had already appeared. He stayed down a moment, just staring ahead, his cheek against cold wood.

Eriol, the biggest player he knew, the man who enjoyed women as entertainment, who formerly swore off love and commitment, his best friend since childhood, was getting married. He was happy for the both of them, but it was an idea he'd have to get used to. He couldn't help feeling that, once again, life went on, leaving him to trail behind.

With a short sigh, Syaoran gathered himself and rose from his seat. When he exited the café, a couple of heads, a good number of them female, turned following his movement. As soon as he reached the street, his hands stuffed in his pockets, Syaoran quickly melted in the sea of passersby. He quietly wondered if Shelby would still be at the studio when he got back. He wouldn't have refused another endearing session of necking in bed. A short bald man rudely ran into him and quickly walked away without a word of apology, interrupting Syaoran's train of thoughts. His body turned at the impact and he stood there a moment staring at the man's short sturdy figure. He held both arms up and framed the man's retreating back between two thumbs and indexes. Immobile in a flood of busy bodies, Syaoran shifted the frame up to the sky. The sun was bright out, but it was probably going to rain soon. He was getting kind of tired of Shelby, maybe he'd go sit at the park and paint the wet scenery until he found a new target—model. He was contemplating the idea, when he felt something bump against his shoulder.

"Excuse me." said a creamy voice.

Syaoran dropped his arms, finally realizing he was standing still in the middle of a busy sidewalk, "Sorr—" He started, but when emerald met amber, time stood still and the air crackled.

Her deep green eyes sparkled like gems and a single bat of those long lashes just might have blown him away. Her silky auburn hair fell just over her breast where a deep collar teasingly showed off lovely cleavage. Around a slender neck, a thin silver chain held a delicate white flower and over a cute round chin, gorgeous pink lips were awful inviting… Syaoran couldn't help but stare. He swallowed painfully. Even when she sent him a questioning look, he felt a sharp pang in his guts and a soft churning tingle in his chest. It was a sensation he knew well enough to recognize as desire, but never had he felt it with such intensity and so little restraint. He wanted her with such violence it made his skin damp and his heart ache.

The soft lips curved into a playful smile, "You might want to put some ice on that." She gestured at the mark on his forehead before slowly walking away.

Wishing he could hold her back just a little longer, Syaoran almost raised an arm to stop her, but could only watch as she began to disappear back into the crowd. He quickly raised both arms and framed her delicate figure before she disappeared around the corner. When she was out in sight, he finally reluctantly dropped his arms to the side and turned around, resuming his walk home.

He kept his eyes steady and his mind focus as to burn her image on his retina. When he got home, he would paint her, again and again, until, unable to leave, she would become his to keep.

**A/N: Well, that's it for the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed. **

**Eriol and Tomoyo's relationship will probably be translated into another story following a parallel storyline. Love to know your thoughts about this chapter so R&R.**

**Ciao**


	2. La Vie En Rose

**A/N: The first chapter of this story got an unexpectedly good response, I wonder why. Thx to all reviewers, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you.**

Disclaimer: I do not own CCS.

**The Devil's Paintbrush**

Chapter Two

_La Vie en Rose_

A silky strand of auburn dropped from Sakura's high bun. Sliding playfully over her face, it softly teased and tickled her bottom lip. Sakura carelessly pursed her lips to blow it away. The strand mischievously rose in the air before slowly dancing its way back to the bridge of her nose. In a short impatient gesture, she pulled the strand tight behind her ear.

Wrapped in a comfy cotton towel, she sat low on the lid of her toilet bowl, with a dripping saucepan squeezed between her laps. Awkwardly, she stirred thick golden brown goo with a large wooden spoon. When the scented mix became somewhat cooler, she began buttering it to her legs. The sticky homemade body wax she had been preparing since early morning was lumpy and uneven, but it would do the job just fine. As it happened, her cooking skills were rather limited and solely ranged between hit and miss. This morning had been unusually excruciating as she was seemingly set on a painfully long strike of misses. She would never have thought making body wax could be so hard.

With the amount she'd burned, she might as well have bought it from the store, she brooded. Granted she was not an awesome cook —a few men, many friends and relatives could give testimony— but now that she had so much room for practice, she prided herself in thinking she was getting better at it every day. With an easy smile, she lined thin strips of waxing paper over the goo.

In her tiny apartment bathroom, the air was still, thick and misty from the short burning hot shower she had just taken. The cold water shower handle had been broken and missing for ages now, and it had already been over six weeks since the kind landlord had very thoughtfully agreed to come fix it. Sakura sighed softly, wiping with the back of her hand, the soft sweat that dampened her forehead and temple. Her face suddenly twisted with apprehension. Bracing herself, she reached to pull the first strip, but stopped dead when the sharp ring of the living room telephone reached her ears.

With a near sigh of relief, she quickly dropped the saucepan on the cold tiles and made a dash to her living room slash bed and dining room. Grabbing the receiver at the last ring, Sakura leaned a hand on the low side table.

"Hello?" she asked, though she already knew who it was.

"Sakura-chan?" Soft and sweet, Tomoyo's clear voice echoed in the receiver.

"Ah, Tomoyo-chan!" Sakura's face lit at the sound of her friend's voice, "Mornin'"

On the other side, Tomoyo smiled "Good morning, Sakura-chan." but her voice quickly switched to concern, "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

Sakura threw a long look at her wax covered legs and shook her head, "No, no. I was just getting ready for work." She smoothed and flattened the bumpy paper strips on her legs, more than just a little reluctant to pull at them.

Tomoyo made a short sound of acknowledgement, "Oh, yes. I remember you saying you were starting a new job today."

"Hn, yeah." When the waxing strip and a thin layer of hair ripped from her leg, Sakura's teeth sank into her bottom lip, "As a waitress at the small family café down the street. It doesn't pay as much as my last job, but I get tips and the hours are pretty good." Sakura said, tracing fingertips down her leg to test for smooth skin, "And my boss seemed really nice, a chubby little man... But you should see the skimpy little outfits he has us waitresses wearing. It's borderline indecent. "

Tomoyo's laughter rang clear in the receiver, "Are you sure it's a _family _café?"

Sakura blinked twice, "Surely it is. They wouldn't call it _Aizawa's Family café_ if it wasn't, would they?"

"I guess they wouldn't." Tomoyo giggled, "And how are things at the apartment?" she asked after a brief pause.

"Oh, the shower still isn't fixed, but I'm getting pretty used to it." She had no choice anyway, this was the only place she could afford.

"Oh, Sakura..."

"But you know, the squeaking doors, the kitchen drawers that stick, even the old sofa with loose springs are starting to feel just comfy enough. I think this is finally starting to feel like home..." In order to avoid more of her friend's pity, however thoughtful and sympathetic, she thoughtfully forgot to mention that her rent was long overdue, "I might have mice though..."

Tomoyo remained silent on the other side.

Sakura sprang to her feet, alarmed, "But it's no big deal, I'll just have to set traps and stuff—" she spoke hastily, trying to cover for her miss, "You really don't have to worry about anything. Everything's fine really..." she said quietly.

Tomoyo sighed lightly, "I'm sorry. I know you're working so hard and yet the only thing I can do is call for selfish reassurance."

Sakura smiled softly, it was just like Tomoyo to be so subtly protective of her. This trait of Tomoyo personality Sakura didn't dislike, far from it actually. It kept her strong. It reminded her why she always worked and tried so hard. She just had to take it on herself to stay positive, so the ones who loved her— the ones she loved— didn't have to worry.

"It's alright—_I'm _alright, Tomoyo-chan."

"Would you tell me if you weren't?"

"Of course. I'd tell you if I was in trouble." Rent just a little overdue didn't count as trouble, Sakura decided.

"I know you Sakura, and because I do I know you wouldn't. You keep saying you're alright as an excuse not to let me help." Tomoyo's voice was sulky and just a little hurt.

"You know that's not true, Tomoyo-chan. I'd tell you if anything was wrong, but I'm really alright!" Sakura tried her most cheerful tone of voice.

Tomoyo's silence was long, suspicious and had Sakura giggling nervously. "You know, Sakura-chan," she finally started tentatively, "You know that empty room at the mansion, the one down the hall—the one we used to keep for storage?"

Eager to change the subject, Sakura replied just a little too quickly "Yes!"

"Well, I know you told me not to—" Sakura's smile shrunk.

"Oh, Tomoyo-chan..." Sakura sighed cupping her face in a small hand.

"—But I've prepped it as a guest room. It's pink wallpaper everywhere, beautifully furnished, Eriol did a fine job decorating it—with my guidance, naturally—"

"Naturally." Sakura reluctantly felt the corners of her mouth curve.

"And you know, the room is just there, vacant and waiting, if ever—"

"Tomoyo-chan."

"You would like to move in, it would be our pleasure to have y—"

"**Tomoyo**." Sakura's uncharacteristically sharp tone had Tomoyo stopping at mid sentence.

"... Sakura, just let me help." Tomoyo's voice quivered a little,_ "Please._"

Sakura sighed, and continued in a softer voice "You know I can't move in with you. You've already helped me enough after..." Sakura shook her head dismissively, "You know, taking me in until I got back on my feet, but I can't rely on you forever, Tomoyo-chan."

"And why not?" Tomoyo snapped, it was very unlike her to let her temper flare but the combination of Sakura and this particular topic tended to have this effect on her, "I hate that you have to live like this." she spat vehemently, "Especially since that jerk's still living cosily in _your_ condo." Tomoyo's voice shook with quiet rage, "It just isn't fair Sakura!"

Sakura smiled, when had she stopped caring she wondered, "I _know_ that, but that's as much my fault as his. I always depended on him for everything, existed only for him, but now I'm doing things **for** myself **by** myself. I can't—won't— depend on anyone anymore." she said, brows arched in a solemn frown.

"And how is this different from before? You're still letting him win, giving in to what he wants." Tomoyo whispered accusingly.

"No..." Sakura sighed, "I'm just moving on."

"Then let's do it together! You don't have to do everything alone, Sakura. Just let me help. Think of how lovely it would be for us to be roommates again! I would be just like the old times—" Tomoyo

"I wouldn't be like before."Sakura interrupted, "It will never be like before. Things are changing, we're changing." Sakura had a quick smile, "You're getting _married_ Tomoyo. I just wouldn't be at my place at the mansion. Oh, I'm sure Eriol and you wouldn't mind having me around, but I would surely get in your way and you know how much I'd hate that."

Tomoyo finally sighed in defeat, "Alright. I understand. But you know you can always count on me—on us—for anything."

"I know."

"Then I'll let you get ready... See you at the engagement party tonight."

"Right."

"Oh, and Sakura-chan?" Tomoyo called holding Sakura back as she was about to drop the receiver.

"Hm?" Sakura answered absentmindedly while glancing at the clock high on her living room wall. The wax would be cold as her bathroom tiles by now.

"Enjoy your present." Tomoyo said, voice smiling.

"Sur— Wait, what pr—" but she could already hear the soft click of the phone being hung up.

As though on cue, a ring at the door signalled the presence of an unexpected early morning visitor. Sakura sent a curious look towards the front door and, after quietly hanging up the phone, sauntered towards it. She opened to reveal a young delivery man holding a small cardboard box solidly under his arm. At the sight of a pretty brunette wrapped in only a short cotton towel, looking fresh and so delightfully unprepared to receive company, the delivery boy's brows nearly touched his hairline.

He handed her the package and stuttered at her to sign the form on his clipboard. As Sakura hastily scribbled on the board, the boy let his eyes and mind wander. He was pretty sure she was completely naked under that cotton towel and the sudden impulse to rip the piece of fabric from her curvy body hit him like a truck. Tilting his head distractedly, his eyes slid over curvy hips and down lean long legs...

An abrupt, dry cough called him back to reality. Sakura was already handing the clipboard back to him, and, thankfully more amused than offended, stared back with a raised eyebrow. The boy felt his face grow warm, grabbing the clipboard, he mumbled thanks and scrambled. Sakura watched him nearly run down the hallway striding like a penguin and with a firm grip on his crotch.

After a short hearty laugh, she headed back inside, closing the door behind her. She felt and shook the box, listening for any familiar sound. It was a small package and had no return address. She slowly eviscerated the box.

A sharp feeling of love tugged at her heart when her eyes set on the gorgeous salmon pink evening gown nested inside the box, "Oh, Tomoyo..." Her cheeks flushed and her eyes stung— just a little— "You didn't have to..." her voice trailed as she lifted the dress from its box. It was strapless, to show off Sakura's delicate shoulders, and held high and tight at the waist to amplify a small bust and define her petit shape. It flowed generously from below the bust down to the floor, where it trailed lightly in a foam of fabric. Sakura's fingertip trailed across the broche garnishing the dress' high-waist satin belt. "It's beautiful..." she murmured to no one in particular, but beautiful wasn't quite the word for it. It was perfect. And without a doubt a Daidouji original.

Sakura sank her face into the dress to smell the material. She held the wear tight against her body, being careful not to wrinkle the fabric, and dropped a small kiss right on the glistening broche, half hoping her love would transmit to the designer, "Thank you." she whispered before setting the dress back inside the box. She was about to head back to the bathroom when she caught sight of time, reading on her wall clock.

Bubbling an oath she would never dare in public, she nearly tripped over herself running back to the bathroom. Oh, and screw waxing, she never liked it anyway. Today, as any other day, she would gladly settle for tights.

----

With his back completely straight and tense, his figure immobile, Syaoran threw paint on a canvas. His eyes remained steady, focused, and only his forearm jerked in movement as it guided a dripping paintbrush over the image. He worked atypically fast, sliding the paintbrush over the picture as if the devil peered over his shoulder.

The brush came to a sharp halt and Syaoran eyed the picture was a low inhalation. He finally set his tool down in the tray of the easel and crossed his arms over his chest. Titling his head to the side, he stared long and hard at the drying canvas. When creamy white arms slid over his shoulders, he didn't even turn to look. Shelby glided her mouth over the side of Syaoran's neck, and dropping a few tender kisses along the way, mounted to his ear, cheek and temple.

Unfazed, Syaoran remain still, only staring at the drying paint. Bored with the lack of attention, Shelby sighed and dropped her head over his shoulder to stare at the picture in her turn.

"Is this some kind of new concept or something?" She nodded towards the immense unfilled spot right in the middle of the canvas. It was so big, you could fit another painting in it.

"Not exactly." Syaoran replied carelessly. When he wasn't working with a model, Syaoran liked to work alone, but the concept of solitude was completely alien to the blond foreigner. Needless to say, her constant interruptions and cries for attention were beginning to test Syaoran's patience. He shrugged her off his shoulders to stand.

She remained standing in front of the canvas and stared, as Syaoran had, with her head tilted to the side. She scanned the picture hoping to find some trick she might have missed, "Then why is there a huge blank spot in the middle of your painting?" she finally asked, still scrutinizing.

"Good question..." Syaoran muttered with a frown. He leaned over the sink and dumped dirty paintbrushes in an old 32 ounce yogurt pot.

"What?" Shelby cried back, turning to stare at Syaoran's back.

"I said I don't know." Syaoran replied, voice hinting impatience, as he poured water over the brushes.

"How can you not know? You drew the picture didn't you?" Shelley pouted.

Syaoran replied nothing. Instead, her came to stand next to her, careful not to touch her — because reasonable distance was required in order to make her understand he wasn't approaching for sex— and stared at the canvas once more. It was a picture of a busy street in the afternoon. In the background, passersby were blurred by movement and in the foreground, huge white nothing cleared all the space. Syaoran crossed his arms over his chest once more and frowned. A huge empty space where the auburn haired girl should have been.

Finally releasing a sigh, Syaoran threw his arms up in defeat and marched to the bed to drop face first. His studio was crowded with pictures of a blank spot on a busy street scenery. No matter how hard he tried, he could never draw the girl in its place. Syaoran rolled to his back, cushioning his head with his hands. Oh, but it wasn't that her didn't remember her face, because that he did. He remembered every detail carefully, every inch of her skin to the pore. In fact, he had just to close his eyes and he could see her, gorgeous as day, as though she was flesh and bones before him, but beyond his mind's eye, the girl refused to exist.

He sat up with a sigh. This had never happened to him before. He was always good at visualization. It was part of his job. He could look at you once and draw a sinfully accurate portrait of yourself, and that entirely by memory. But then again, the problem wasn't that he couldn't remember. It was that he couldn't draw.

Every time his paintbrush rose to fill the blank spot, he simply didn't know where to start. He would hesitate again and again on where to drop the first lick of paint until his brush froze in midair and nothing could will it to touch the canvas. Syaoran's head dropped in defeat. How silly was that? He was having a painter's block over a picture he knew perfectly well how to draw.

He dropped back on his back and slowly raised a paint stained hand above his head. The girl's image haunted him wherever he went. He would catch a glimpse of her in a lookalike on TV, would see her face in his cereals, her eyes in the stains on the floor, her hair in the way the curtains flowed pushed by the wind and her lips, her neck, her collarbone, her cheeks, her ear, her everything everywhere, everywhere, _everywhere_. And yet her couldn't draw her, he couldn't make her his. And every time he tried, she taunted him, escaped, like water seeping through his fingers. He tightened his fist.

It was frustrating.

Syaoran broke from his reverie when Shelby plopped on the bed near him. He rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was yet another source of frustration in his life. Syaoran nearly seized when he realized he was beginning to hate woman.

Shelby wrapped lean arms around his chest and buried her face against his shoulder. They remained still a moment, and just when Syaoran was beginning to enjoy the silence and gleefully contemplated slipping back into daydream, Shelby opened her mouth to talk.

"Syaoran?" she asked, staring at him through thick golden lashes like a small animal.

"Hn?" He responded with all too little interest.

"When are you going to ask me to the engagement party?" She blinked like she was trying to blow him away.

"What engagement party?" He bit back a yawn, beginning to feel a little drowsy. Talking with Shelby always seemed to have that effect on him.

"What do you mean what engagement party?" she sat up abruptly, frowning with disgust, "Daidouji Tomoyo's engagement party! You know, the fashion designer?" She rolled her eyes at his ignorance. Or forgetfulness. Whichever.

"Oh right, right. The engagement party, the engagement party." Sleep vanished from Syaoran's eyes when he remembered, "The _**engagement**_ party!" he shot up, stiff as a board. Biting back an oath, he glanced at his watch. He had just a little time to find himself a tux. He practically ran to the door, but remembering he had no idea where one got such things, stopped dead in his tracks. He could call Eriol and ask, but then the man would know he had completely forgotten about the engagement party and would have his head in a heartbeat. Syaoran paced, quietly muttering under his breath. It was all that girl's fault, crowding his mind so he could think of nothing else. What was he to do now? Surely he couldn't show up wearing slacks...

Syaoran's pacing came to a halt when a ring sounded at the door. Slightly thankful for the well timed interruption, Syaoran stomped to the door and swung it open without even peering through the peephole.

"Eriol..." he blinked with unhidden surprise. Looking poised with his hands shoved in his pockets, the dark haired man smirked at his friend.

"Panicking yet?" He waited a moment before handing Syaoran a black suit cover. Syaoran blankly stared at the garment bag in his hands as Eriol strolled past him into the apartment, "Oh, hey Shelby. And how are you doing today?" Eriol waved at the blond still sitting on the bed near the window. Shelby giggled, twisting a lock of hair between her fingers. When Eriol turned back to Syaoran, she tilted her head to the side to admire his enticing rear.

"What's this?" Syaoran asked while unzipping the cover.

"Your tux for tonight." Eriol kicked a low cupboard open and pulled out a bottle of brandy.

Pulling the suit out of its hood, Syaoran had a long sigh of relief, "_Really_? Thank _**god**_— Not that I'd forgotten about the engagement party or anything."Syaoran added quickly, "I just... Didn't have... Anything to wear..." He scratched the back of his head and set the clothes aside.

"Riiight, right." Eriol pulled a glass from the cupboard, but reconsidering, finally drank the liquor straight from the bottle.

The sight had Syaoran chuckling, "Long day?"

After emptying near a quarter of the bottle, Eriol finally set it down to catch his breath, "You have no idea. Syaoran, that woman is driving nuts. The way she's fretting about all and everything, you'd think we are getting married tonight or something." he took another mouthful.

Syaoran laughed, few people could stretch Eriol's seemingly boundless patience to such extents and with such efficiency, and even fewer lived to tell the tale "She just wants to make sure everything is done right."

Eriol sent a sharp look his way, "Don't you dare defend her. That old coot just enjoys making my life a living hell."

Syaoran raised his arms in defence, "_Or _she just wants the best for her only daughter." He patted his friend's shoulder sympathetically, "You only get one mother-in-law."

"And blessed be for that." Taking a last gulp, Eriol soundly dropped the brandy bottle on the counter, "Alright," he said with a sigh, "I better get going. _Mother _wants me to check the wine selection, again, and reorder the tables, again, by the time the florist drops the flower arrangements, again. I will strike that woman, so help me God." He mumbled, and already setting up defences against his evil mother-in-law, exited the apartment.

As soon as Eriol was out the door, Shelley shrieked, "Oh. My. God. Do you know who that was? Do you? That was Hiiragizawa Eriol! Current owner of H corp. and probably **the** richest man under 30 _IN JAPAN_! And he knew my naaaaame!!"

Syaoran stared at her like she'd just spoken English, "Are you sure you're a foreigner?"

Shelby thoughtfully ignored his comment, "_He's_ the one getting married to Daidouji Tomoyo?! Why didn't you tell me?"

Heck, he couldn't even remember telling her about the engagement party, "'Cause I saw the way you were ogling at his ass." Syaoran replied carelessly as he lifted the clothes from the counter.

Caught red-handed, Shelley blushed crimson, but her embarrassment quickly shifted into a playful smile, "I still like yours better."

Syaoran smirk flashed, "It's all in your best interests." Walking towards the closet, he curiously peered inside the bag at the tuxedo Eriol had gotten him. It was a classic black suit with a white undershirt and an amber tie. A small yellow post-it stuck on the tie caught Syaoran's attention. He ripped it from the garment and read: "_To compliment the colour of your eyes, said the retailer. P.S. Remove this before you wear the tie_."

Syaoran had a short heartfelt laugh.

"What's so funny?" Shelby slipped her arms around Syaoran's chest.

"Nothing." Syaoran hung the suit inside the closet and turned to wrap his arms around Shelby's waist.

"I really can't believe you're close friends with this kind of people." Shelby marvelled, lifting her head against Syaoran's chest to stare at a spot under his chin.

"Hnnn." Syaoran took a strand of golden hair between his fingers and raised it to his lips.

"I mean a celeb fashion designer, a super rich business man."Shelby's eyes twinkled, "What else didn't you tell me?"

Syaoran smiled a dark, mysterious smile, "I'm afraid that's about it. I'm not hiding anymore celebrities in my closet."

Shelby giggled when Syaoran nibbled at her neck, "But it's still pretty amazing. How did you guys meet?"

"Childhood friends." Syaoran replied between two nibbles.

Shelby bit back a moan when Syaoran's hands slid over her breasts. "Syaoran?" she said in a gasp.

"Hn?" He slid a hand in her hair and another over the curve of her butt.

"Take me to the engagement party." Syaoran tensed upon hearing those words, freezing just before taking her lips, "I can't?" She asked, pulling back lightly so she could look him in the eyes, while hers gleamed with plea.

Scanning her face, he considered a brief second before releasing a low sigh, "Fine."

Shelley's face suddenly brightened and she threw herself on Syaoran's neck, "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." She said, planting soft kisses on his lips.

"You are very welcome." He whispered between kisses.

She giggled, "You're so good to me."

"I know." he let his lips trail along her neck.

"And after the party, mayyybe we can come back here,"

"Huh uh."

"And keep the party going just a while longer."

He smirked, "I think we can do that."

Shelby smiled, pecked him on the lips one more time, "Well, I'll get going now." She turned to leave, but swirled right back "Oh, before I forget." She walked to grab her purse on a counter and fished inside her bag for a heavy white envelope, "For that new easel you wanted."

"You didn't have to." Syaoran said, but made no move to take the packet.

She took Syaoran's hand and pressed the envelope hard against his palm, "But I wanted to."

Syaoran smiled, he was way past feeling ashamed or embarrassed for take a fair maiden's money, especially when it was so kindly offered to him. He shoved the cash in his back pocket and grabbing Shelby by the back of the head, pulled her in a long, slow kiss that put fire in her lungs and syrup in her veins. The butterflies in her stomach would refuse to settle long after the kiss had ended.

He broke the kiss gently and murmured against her tender, swollen lips, "Thanks." Shelby kept her eyes set on Syaoran's, even as he released her. His mouth curled into an amused smile "Well, bye now."

Shelby snapped back to reality with a shudder of excitement, "Oh. Yeah. Got to go." Scattered, she reached for her purse on the counter, just to remember that it hung on her arm. Dreamy eyes set on Syaoran, she backed towards the entrance, "I'll- I'll drop by... Later- I mean for the party..." she stuttered before attempting thrice at grabbing her coat from the hanger.

"Well, bye." She sighed before closing the door softly behind her.

Syaoran's smiled faded as soon as the door closed. He walked to the bed and sat softly. Pensive, he slowly shifted his gaze to the ceiling. What harm could it bring to take Shelby to the engagement party? She'd enjoy herself at the soirée, he'd show her a good time at night and first thing in the morning, he'd dump her.

**A/N: So there we go for chapter two. **

**It was much shorter than I originally intended and I am vaguely dissatisfied with the dialogues, but school has just started and I wanted to post something while I still have spare time (which won't be much longer :/). It might be a while 'til chapter three, but hopefully you'll stay tuned for following updates.**

**I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter so read and review!**


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